I was supposed to meet Ethan at the hospital at 9:00 a.m.
He promised he’d be there — promised he’d hold my hand before I went in for surgery.
But as the clock kept ticking, all I had was silence.
No Ethan. No text. No missed call.
Just me, sitting alone in the back of a cab, calling his number over and over again.
Only to hear the automated voice say:
“The number you have dialed is currently busy.”
By the time I checked into the hospital, he had finally called.
“Mia, I’m so sorry… I really wanted to be there, but… something happened. Leah, she—she called me this morning and said she was crying and going to hurt herself. I didn’t know what to do.”
I didn’t even argue.
I simply hung up.
Because I already knew — she did it on purpose.
Let me tell you how I met Leah.
She was my colleague. Bright, charming, and a little too friendly at times.
One lunch break, she invited me out. Her boyfriend came along. So did Ethan.
Somewhere between appetizers and dessert, Leah decided she’d play matchmaker.
“Ethan’s single, you’re single. You two should totally go out!” she giggled.
I smiled politely but felt awkward. Still, a few days later, Ethan messaged me.
And before I knew it, he was pursuing me — earnestly.
Leah, of course, was always around to “help.”
She told him what flowers I liked. What I hated. How I took my coffee.
She was everywhere in the background, orchestrating things.
At first, it seemed sweet.
Then it became suffocating.
Every date Ethan and I had — Leah found a reason to show up.
She clung to Ethan like static. Whispered into his ear. Gave him orders, disguised as “friendly advice.”
If I frowned, I was being oversensitive.
If I questioned their closeness, I didn’t “understand their friendship.”
It was exhausting.
Then came Ethan’s birthday.
He rented a beach house and invited a crowd.
While I was sweating in the kitchen with a few girls trying to prep dinner, Leah strolled in like a queen.
She leaned toward me and whispered:
“Ethan doesn’t like pepper. Only eats shredded potatoes, not cubes. And he’s allergic to peanuts, by the way.”
I paused. Put down my knife.
“Then why don’t you cook for him?”
She grinned.
“Oh no. I’m just the best friend. You’re the girlfriend. This is your time to shine.”
The sarcasm dripped off every syllable.
We were mid-argument when Ethan walked in.
He pulled me aside and said:
“Come on, babe. Don’t be mad. Don’t take her seriously. She’s like a dude in a girl’s body.”
Leah burst into crocodile tears and punched him lightly in the back.
“Ethan! Even if you begged, I wouldn’t be your friend anymore!”
And just like that, she ghosted him.
But he… changed.
He became distant, distracted.
He couldn’t even tell a dress from a jacket. Poured vinegar into noodles without thinking.
I confronted him.
“Do you still want to be with me? Or are you just mourning your precious friendship with her?”
He denied it, of course.
Claimed he was just upset about losing a 20-year friendship.
Asked me not to make him choose. Said I was overthinking.
Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with uterine fibroids.
It wasn’t life-threatening, but it wasn’t nothing either.
I was scared. I needed support.
Ethan promised he’d be with me on surgery day.
But when Leah cried wolf — he disappeared.
After his sorry excuse of a phone call, Leah called me next.
“Mia, let’s get something straight. We are closer than family. You wouldn’t even know him if it weren’t for me.”
“We’ve never slept together, okay? Never even kissed. But you still can’t compare. You don’t belong in his world.”
My hand shook with rage.
“You’re right, Leah. You’re different. So special. So… pure. You’re the only woman I know who can latch onto someone else’s boyfriend and still claim moral high ground! Congratulations. You win. Tell Ethan we’re done. And that he should stay as far away from me as you do from self-awareness!”
I went into surgery alone.
Well, not quite alone.
Just as they were wheeling me in, someone ran up, out of breath.
“Mia! Wait!”
The gurney jerked slightly as the nurses paused, glancing back toward the voice. I turned my head and saw Ethan — hair disheveled, chest heaving, hospital badge clutched in his hand like it could explain everything.
I wanted to ignore him. To shut my eyes and pretend I was dreaming. But I couldn’t.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice flat, barely above a whisper.
“I came… I had to come,” he said breathlessly, stepping closer. “Please, Mia. I know I messed up. I should’ve been here earlier. I shouldn’t have picked her over you.”
I stared at the ceiling. Cold, sterile. “But you did.”
He reached for my hand, and I let him touch it—just for a second.
“I don’t love her,” he blurted. “I never did. She’s manipulative. Controlling. But I was too blind to see it… until this morning.”
I looked at him then. Really looked. He seemed smaller somehow. Or maybe I had just gotten stronger.
“What happened this morning?”
He swallowed hard. “She admitted it. She admitted she faked everything—her breakdown, the threats, even the tears. Said she wanted to see if I’d choose her over you… and I did.”
He clenched his jaw. “But when I saw your name on the surgery list today, I panicked. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you and I wasn’t there.”
The nurse gently tapped the bedrail. “We have to go.”
Ethan looked desperate. “Please, Mia. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now. But let me be here when you wake up. Let me earn back even a fraction of the trust I lost.”
I exhaled deeply.
Then I said the only thing I could.
“Fine. You can wait. But don’t wait for us to go back to how things were.”
His face fell, but he nodded slowly.
As the gurney rolled forward and the doors swung open into the cold, sterile operating room, I held my breath. I was scared. Hurting. But I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
And that made all the difference.
